


The Seeing Stone

by LifeInkognito



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:47:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27791029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LifeInkognito/pseuds/LifeInkognito
Summary: Din Djarin and the Child approach the seeing stone at Tython.---Din glances down and shrugs a shoulder. “I’m sure this will go off without a hitch,” he says, unable to hold back the sarcasm. Nothing has ever gone as expected with this kid. But he strokes the child’s ear reassuringly anyway.
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Din Djarin, Din Djarin & Ahsoka Tano, Din Djarin & Grogu
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	The Seeing Stone

This is a world of death and ghosts. Tython’s mountains are strewn with strange, ancient ruins, crumbling and scorch marked. Trees charred to bare, ashen sticks protrude from the lifeless terrain. Grey, polluted snow falls from the sky and turns to slop beneath their feet. Something bad happened here, a long time ago. Din has seen enough destruction in his lifetime to know what war looks like.

They’ve nearly reached the spired tower at the mountain’s peak now. The wind at this height is so strong that Din had worried the kid might blow away. He’d nearly had to shove the wriggling child into the sack strung across his chest. The closer they’d trekked to the tower, the more eager the kid had become, trilling and reaching out with his tiny claws. But now, as Din finally approaches the tower’s massive wooden door, the kid falls quiet, burrowing deeper into his pouch.

Din glances down and shrugs a shoulder. “I’m sure this will go off without a hitch,” he says, unable to hold back the sarcasm. Nothing has ever gone as expected with this kid. But he strokes the child’s ear reassuringly anyway. 

The door is heavy. The rusted hinges creak in protest as Din throws his weight against it, shoving it open just enough to squeeze inside. Immediately, the deafening howl of the wind is cut off. A large, empty hall stretches out before them. Din blinks to adjust his eyes to the darkness. Only a few streaks of light bleed in through cracks in the stone walls. 

At his hip, the kid perked up. “Mah?” he babbles, big eyes staring up at Din imploringly. He raises both arms, asking to be let out.

Din lifts the kid from the sack and sets him down on the floor beside him. The child wastes no time, darting further into the room. 

“Kid, wait! Grogu!” Din calls after him. Then he notices that the floor they’re standing on is tiled with iridescent crystals set in elaborate, colorful swirls that reach out like arms from the center of the room. The kid steps into the middle of the pattern, glittering arcs fanning out around him in a circle.

“Guess this is it,” Din murmurs, voice carrying eerily through the cavernous halls. 

The kid plops down, little hands spread out against the stones. Din waits for something to happen, though he doesn’t know what. Something unexplainable, as he’s come to expect from the child. 

But nothing comes to pass. Just the kid, hands pressed into the heart of the crystals. And the steady sound of Din’s own breath.

This will probably be a while. Din lowers himself onto his knees, never one to pass up an opportunity to gather his strength. The air, so thin at this altitude, makes him feel light, almost buoyant. As the silence stretches on, his concentration narrows to the sensation of his inhales, exhales, diaphragm expanding, contracting. It’s peaceful here. A calm Din hasn’t felt in a long time. Maybe not since he was child himself. 

_ All is quiet. He is alone. He is alone more often than not. Visits from the elders grow rarer, and when they do come, their faces are etched with worry. Reach out with the Force, they ask him. They try to teach him. Reach out. He does try. He doesn’t understand why it doesn’t work. _

_ Something is wrong. He can taste it in the air, like soot on his tongue. He reaches out with the Force. It still doesn’t work. _

_ Then he hears it. Not here, but somewhere, echoing through the Force, thick and bitter as fresh blood. Screaming.  _

_ He’s never felt death before. _

_ No. No. He reaches out with the Force. Further. Further. _

_ There is something—the tips of his fingers brush it, push it away like a veil. _

_ He can see them. The younglings. They don’t understand. The swing of something blue and bright. It hurts, it burns. They fall. How could any one creature possess so much hate. He can’t stop it. They are dying. All dying and— _

“No!” 

His shout echoes through the stone hall. Din drags himself to his feet, shaking off the fog that’s overtaken him. Images flash behind his eyes.  _ The younglings, falling. _ Din’s mother, dropping him into the cellar.  _ A blue laser sword. _ Red streaks soaring, searing holes into everyone he loves.

Across the room, the child is still pressing into the crystals, head bent and eyes closed. 

“Come on.” Din scoops the kid up, ignoring his surprised yelp. In an instant, like a pop, the world seems to pressurize, the ground beneath his feet stable once more. 

Ahsoka Tano was wrong. This place is dangerous. They should leave. Din places the child back in his sack, even as he pries against his gloved hands with tiny claws. “Stop it. No. We’re getting out of here.”

Din has witnessed the kid doing things he can’t explain many times before. He’s made things float, controlled fire, healed wounds. But never this. Never reaching into his mind, his memories, their brains twisting around each other until he couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended.

It’s a short trek back to the Razor Crest. Din wastes no time, strapping the kid into a chair and charting a course for somewhere else, anywhere else. It’s not until the stars elongate into streaks and the hum of hyperspace surrounds them that Din feels the weight on his chest ease up.

“Damn it.” Din glances at the kid, who is staring back at him with big, curious eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Muh?” the kid chirps, ears twitching. 

Din sighs. He wonders if the kid even realizes what’s wrong. “That was you, wasn’t it?” he asks. “You used your magic on me.”

The kid blinks at him innocently. 

“Don’t do that again.” Din tries not to sound angry. “Do you understand? Grogu?”

His big ears fall. He reaches out a tiny hand.

Din exhales again. He knows it’s not the child he’s upset with. He reaches over and undoes the kid’s buckle, pulling him into his lap.

“Look. We’ll figure out some other way to get to the Jedi,” Din tells him. But the kid is already curling up into the crook of his arm, eyes closing and drifting to sleep.

Din holds onto him for a while. He remembers the emotions that coursed through him at the temple. The unimaginable terror of witnessing death for the first time. Was that his memory, or the kid’s? Somehow he can’t tell them apart anymore.

He recalls Ahsoka Tano’s words:  _ I’ve seen what such feelings can do to a fully trained Jedi Knight. _

The Mandalorians taught him something similar once, when he was a foundling and learning to wield his first weapon.  _ Do not be afraid of power. Power is pure. It is fear that corrupts. _

Din and the child both have too much to be afraid of.

But still, Din had felt it, in Tython’s temple. The child had reached out into the Force. And if even Din Djarin, a man with no innate magic, could hear it, then someone else must have too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
